He Lives For Her Pleasure
by herecstasy
Summary: Gomez and Morticia Addams, as portrayed in the 1991 movie. A naughty little thing with some semblance of a plot, but not much! Before he met his wife, Gomez had never really cared about anyone's pleasure but his own. Morticia changed all that.


Gomez Addams lay back against the uncomfortable headboard of his martial bed – uncomfortable by design, as suited Gomez and his wife; all the better to cling to in the heat of concupiscence, or to tie up willing wrists and ankles, strong enough to withstand all that the impassioned pair could throw at their surroundings. It had been a good half an hour since he had collapsed back against the bed, his preciosa Morticia falling alongside him, fully spent and satiated from the preceding hour's amorous activities. Yet Gomez still felt his heart racing, his breathing only just now returning to something akin to normal. Oh the things Morticia did to him. He glanced down at the dark temptress slumbering in his arms, her perfectly manicured fingernails resting against his bare chest. A sigh escaped her lips and she turned her head in towards his neck, her lips brushing over his scorching skin; no matter how rested he was, Gomez Addams would never be anything but hot to the touch, and for seventeen long years, it had only been Morticia's deathly delightful cold contact which could bring him relief. He smiled, fully aware that he was encroaching upon his lover's dreams, he knew from the way she muttered his name against his neck that she was revisiting their dalliances over and over as she slept. That was a grand honour, to be so at one with his beloved that he filled her senses at every level of consciousness and beyond. Not to mention, a fine boost for his ego, he must admit.

Taking great care not to wake his love, Gomez eased his body down to rest against the single remaining pillow on the bed. Morticia rarely had need for such soft furnishings, as she slept resting against her husband in one position or another, and it was only when he rose before her of a morning that he would gently arrange her comfort in his absence. The rest of the bedding had been torn and scattered upon the floor that night; neither Mr nor Mrs Addams were particularly house-proud at such moments, and their nights together could quite often cost into the hundreds of dollars in repairs to the room and furnishings the next day. One of the reasons they rarely stayed anywhere other than their own bedroom; that added extra cost that very few hotels would think to build into the price. Gomez was far from tired, and frankly quite enjoying this time, laying in the faint glow of the church candles that surrounded their bed, by now almost fully burnt out, his arm wrapped around Morticia's dainty waist, fingers lazily tracing patterns across her ivory skin. He idly wondered what his dream-self was doing to Morticia at that very moment; judging by the occasional moans escaping from the lips of his slumbering wife, coupled with the way her naked body writhed against his, it was something very pleasurable indeed. He permitted himself a smug smile, as he moved his free hand to reach a fine cigar from his bedside. He stroked a tendril of stray hair away from Morticia's face, moving her closer against his side and admiring the contented expression spreading across her porcelain features.

He lived for his beloved's pleasure. Everything he did by the light of the day was to make her happy, contented, to draw out one of those hypnotic smiles that he so adored. Come nightfall, the greatest reward Gomez could possibly ask for in return for his well-honed bedroom activities was to make Morticia cry out in ecstasy, to watch her body buck uncontrollably as she crashed over the edge and came over and again, crying his name to the heavens. That was what gave him life. Gone were the self-centred, caddish ways of his youth. In truth, Gomez Addams had been a terribly selfish lover until he had met his Morticia. He had been preoccupied with his own satisfaction, and was ashamed to admit now that he had probably assumed the female orgasm was naught but a myth. He had certainly never taken his time to find out what his lovers had wanted from him. His own pleasure was the only goal. He shook his head, feeling truly ashamed of his former self. He could argue that he had been young, impetuous, foolish, and this was all true. It wasn't that he had treated these women abysmally – in the cold light of day, he would spend his vast inheritance freely on fine foods, cultural trips, clothing and trinkets for them. It didn't hurt that Gomez was a terribly handsome and charming fellow, and women seemed to be eager to forgive his misdeeds in the bedroom, solely for the cachet of being seen on his arm. But there was no getting around it. He had been a cad, and for that he was sorry. Of course, everything had changed the night he had fallen like a lead weight for his dark temptress. Before Morticia, Gomez had been quite smug in the knowledge that his paramours each desired him far more than he did them. In Morticia, however, he had met his match. Here was a woman, the very thought of whom drove him wild with desire and adoration; he honestly believed he hadn't been able to function or focus fully on a single thing other than her in the seventeen years they had been wed. He worshipped her. He would die for her. He would kill for her; indeed, he had done, twice thus far.

Gomez turned his head and placed a tender kiss upon Morticia's tousled mess of black hair, moving carefully onto his side, so as to be face to face with his sleeping beauty. He closed his eyes as he thought back to their first night together, and that valuable lesson he had learned at her command.

 _It had been just over 24 hours since Gomez Addams had met Morticia Frump, and yet, by some wonderful intervention of the gods, he was already able to call this ravishing creature his fiancée. They had spent a full day together, seeking out the darkest, most depraved areas of the Addams' estate, secure in each other's arms as they talked and listened in equal measure, learning everything they could about the person they had promised their love and future to. As he sat upon the marble bench in the ancestral crypt, his beloved wife-to-be cradled on his lap, Gomez paid only slight attention to the story he was telling. The vast majority of his conscious mind was taken up with the sensation of Morticia tracing her nimble fingers over his chest, a teasing yet very deliberate path down towards where her chiffon-covered legs rested across his striped-suit clad thighs. Her other hand, slung around the back of his neck to steady herself, was stroking his hair, already ever so familiar with her touch. Wandering fingers came to rest on his inner thigh, just close enough to his groin to make the inevitable stirring clear to this bewitching beauty, and to draw a satisfied smirk from her lips. She deftly wriggled her hips against his lap, eliciting a sharp gasp and a poorly-stifled groan. She had just won her first victory over his senses, the first of countless to come. Gomez paused in his story-telling, quite unsure as to whether he was still able to form a coherent word, let alone a full sentence._

" _Tish..." he murmured, eyes closed in something akin to concentration, perhaps trying to will the blood to return to his brain, at least for now, to salvage something of his control._

" _Oui, mon amour?" came the devastating reply, in a soft musical tone that yet belied her amusement and pleasure at his evident arousal. Gomez almost regretted having reacted with such unadulterated glee when she had first spoken French to him, mere hours after they had first met. He had submitted fully to her in that moment. Once Morticia knew how to summon that dark beast within her intended, to turn his eyes almost black with lust, cause his fingers to dig possessively in to whatever part of her body he held at that moment in time, turn his usually eloquent speech into little more than a growl, she was not going to forget. The moon had now fully risen outside the crypt, and shafts of silver light shone down through the old marble roof._

" _Te deseo, Morticia, I want you so..." Gomez uttered through clenched teeth. All pretence at propriety now cast aside, he somehow managed to summon the presence of mind and strength of body to lift Morticia fully from his lap, setting her on her feet and in the same instance pulling her hard back against him. His body's betrayal of his desperation for his beloved, the hardness he had been so keen to try and disguise only moments before, was now thrust against her cool body, and his lips covered hers in an impassioned embrace. He was fleetingly aware of the fact that she gave herself as readily to him and he did to her, responding with lips and hands and nails in equal measure. Fevered kisses and oaths of desire punctuated their hasty and careless undressing, terribly expensive clothing now lay in tatters, torn and discarded upon the ground. Neither were shy of their bodies, nor had any reason to be. If they had the presence of mind to part for a brief moment and study the other's natural form before them, both would have been pleasantly surprised by what had lain hidden beneath the dark attire._

 _Gomez's entire world at that moment – and every one since - was Morticia. He relished the feel of her ice cold skin, her unbearably sensual curves beneath his fingers as he traced across her hips, lifting her leg to wrap around his waist. He held her balance easily, lips reluctantly parting from hers as she rolled her head back, inviting his teeth to graze against her neck. Gomez was unaware of her quite deliberate placing of her heel against the back of his knee, until an impatient push at that weak point sent him to his knees, throwing up a cloud of dust from the crypt floor. Morticia sighed happily as Gomez let out a short laugh of surprise at his new found submission, silently praising her lover as he quickly came to his senses, gripping her hips with fervour, and pulling her down to lay back on the marble bench._

" _Mon sauvage..." Morticia murmured, one lily-white hand scratching at the delightfully cold surface upon which she lay, the other reaching out, trembling, for her beloved._

 _Gomez remained on his knees, utterly driven now by an irresistible and hereto unknown desire to tease and pleasure this enchanting vixen who lay before him. Her hips bucked impatiently at the lack of contact, and he fell against her inner thigh, now beyond ready for the rapture only she could bring. Gomez's hands slid under Morticia's lower back and hips, pulling her sharply to the edge of the bench. He rained scorching hot kisses across her thighs, spurred on by a now fractious Morticia as she reached down to tangle her fingers in his tousled hair and forcefully tug his head closer to her aching centre. His searching mouth at long last came upon that most erotic of goals, and Gomez was rewarded with a desperate cry of pleasure from his beloved, the most glorious sound he had ever heard._

 _By now Gomez was entirely consumed with the overpowering need to satisfy the writhing beauty that lay before him, gasping and moaning her oaths to the heavens. He had quite forgotten about his own release, for the first time in his life. It was only then that Morticia summoned the strength to quell her imminent orgasm, sitting herself bolt upright as she grasped Gomez's flushed face in her hands, momentarily cooling his burning skin._

" _I want you, mon amor," she breathed, her eyes black as coal as she helped him to climb to his feet. Neither were able to sustain any kind of rational thought by now. Gomez knew that he wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer, and he was quite sure she felt the same. Utterly yielding to her will, Gomez lay his lover back down against the bench, for the first time allowing himself to cry out with her as she drew him inside. Long legs wrapped around his waist and red nails scratched and dug into his shoulders and back, eliciting a string of Spanish curses and proclamations of love. Morticia didn't need to speak that particular romance language to be able to understand his intention, and she responded with her own lust-filled French sentiments._

" _J_ _e vais jouir, mon cher!_ _" The cry of impending bliss issued from Morticia's lips, and a final intense jolt from Gomez at last bought about her undoing, and his. Hips bucking, teeth and nails marking every inch of skin they could reach, breathless and drenched; to come together with his future wife and true love was all Gomez could ever have asked, and his yells of pleasure reverberated around the stone walls, through the open roof and mingled with the howls of the animals and demons that inhabited the forests and swamps of the Addams' estate._

 _Gomez pressed his lips tenderly against Morticia's forehead, his exhausted body now fully weighted upon her delicate form. The marble bench suddenly seemed far too small, and he reluctantly drew back slightly for the briefest of moments, wrapping his shaking arms around her waist and allowing them both to sink to the floor. For a full minute, neither of them dared to move, too intent to the sound of each other's struggle for breath and whispers of adoration. Gomez noticed the telltale flush of red at the side of Morticia's neck, and trailed soft kisses across her cool skin. Laying here, amongst the dust, fallen leaves and swirling mist, spent and satiated as never before, Gomez Addams felt truly at peace. He had, for the first time, realised what it meant to desire another's ecstasy far above his own, and he knew for absolute certain that he would spend the rest of his life living for Morticia's pleasure._


End file.
